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Authors: Steve Delaney

The Talented (17 page)

BOOK: The Talented
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It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting conditions in the cavernous room, but I could feel the damp, cool temperature right away. The walls and ceiling appeared to be made of concrete coated in some kind of shiny enamel finish. The sparse fluorescent lights glowed, casting deep shadows. There appeared to be only one door, and the floor was completely devoid of any rug or furniture. Maybe there are more useless spaces in the world, but I have never seen one. Then it occurred to me: Where was Harrison? There was nowhere to hide in this room. Something was wrong.

The sound of running footsteps echoed from behind the room’s only door, which flew open to admit four soldiers. As soon as they stepped in someone must have turned on the rest of the fluorescents, and the room erupted in bright light.

Before I knew it all four of them pointed handguns at my face and were shouting at me to get down on the ground. Summoning what was left of my strength, I…got an idea, then stopped. Slowly I put my hands behind my head and dropped to my knees.

Apparently, the four soldiers were not expecting this, but one of them, a stout blond woman who looked a lot like the one from the tunnel, recovered fast enough. She kicked me in the chin with her combat boot so hard it rocked my head back and a sharp pain shot through my neck. Pretending that she knocked me out, I fell limp. Cold handcuffs clicked shut on my wrists behind my back. As the leader sent away one of the men away to get a gurney, I expanded my consciousness to my surroundings, forming a mental map that I could refer to later. After a few minutes passed the man returned with the wheeled gurney and the four of them comically struggled to hoist me up onto it.

This is either the world’s worst plan or an act of genius. Given my current track record, the smart money’s on the former. Where the hell is Harrison, anyway? The blond woman keeps checking her watch like she had somewhere to be…no…she’s worried about Harrison being gone so long. She loves him, but has never told him about it. That must go around a lot in these military types. Then a sudden realization dawned on me. I sensed those thoughts through her goofy looking helmet. The more I’m around these things the less they hamper me. That must be why Harrison seems to ignore them as if they weren’t even there. He blew past the whole house countermeasures that Dr. Kildare had going. Interesting.

The blond woman, named….Heidi, checked her watch again. Just past six in the afternoon. Six??? It was almost eight o’clock when I found Harrison lurking in my condo. How could ten hours have gone by? And where the blazes is Harrison??? This plan began to seem dumber by the minute. I was hoping for them to put me in jail so that I could find my friends there. At least I think they are my friends. I made a promise to Kate, anyhow, and she’s a friend. Right?

All of a sudden I had an urge to forget all about Kate and just embrace being a part of the Alliance for real. Why was I fighting these people? For the first time in my life, I could actually belong to something. Yes, I’m planning to betray them, but there’s no rule that says I have to. When Harrison gets back this whole misunderstanding will be cleared up and I will be part of the team. Who are the good guys in this fight, anyway? How do I do the right thing when I don’t know whom to trust?

Two of the four soldiers resumed their posts guarding the hallway outside the Way Station (which is what the soldiers called the big domed room). The two that stayed with me were Heidi and a wiry, dangerous-looking man named Clyde with a fresh curved scar outside his left eye. At this very moment, Heidi was thinking about how to kill me without getting caught. Fantastic. My plan was looking better and better.

The hallway ended, splitting into two wings. The one on the right was marked “Stairs to Level B3.” We took the unmarked door on the left. It was secured by a keypad security code, plus a retinal scan, plus a voice analyzer. The door was made of reinforced steel. It seems like a great security system unless you develop laryngitis. Heidi and Clyde walked up to the retinal scanner until it beeped for both of them, then entered the security code. Then the system spoke, “Verify, please state your names.”

“Clyde Williams.”

“Heidi Kohler.”

“Analyzing…Thank you.” Then the door unlocked with a clang and the two musketeers ushered me through. As I was wheeled into the wing my ears popped, as if I were in a rapidly ascending airplane. The feeling was accompanied by a dead silence unlike any that I had ever, um, not heard. Then it dawned on me that I was not hearing anyone’s thoughts, no faraway whispers, not the urgings of animals, no thoughts at all but my own. Even my own thoughts were scattered and hard to hold onto. I opened my eyes slightly to see where they were taking me. Not five feet past the entrance was a brightly lit pharmacy window complete with elderly pharmacist. It would look right at home in any drug store in America, except this was a prison wing for psionically talented criminals. It didn’t quite fit here.

Clyde stepped forward. “Roger, we have a live one here. This is Adam Sharpe, an untrained Class A psi.” (He pronounced the word “sigh”). “His readings are completely off the charts, and we found him in the Way Station, and you know that that means.”

Roger frowned, “Class A indeed. I’m surprised that your team was able to subdue him. Good work. How did you do it?”

Clyde shifted his weight and replied, “He just surrendered. Then my overzealous sergeant kicked him unconscious.”

“Just surrendered, hmm?” Roger leaned over me. “Welcome to our treatment center, young man. I know you can hear me so you can give up the charade. Please sit up and take your medicine and you can be on your way.”

“No thanks,” I said, opening my eyes, “I’m fine.”

The friendly look on Roger’s face evaporated. “I am afraid, sir, that taking your medication is required, and if necessary, we will administer it to you by force.”

My two soldier buddies leaned over, malevolent and eager looks on their faces.

I sat up with difficulty, my hands still cuffed behind my back. Then I said, “That’s not going to happen.” The reflection in the glass revealed that Clyde was about to pounce, and I did my best to focus on speeding up my metabolism to slow down time.

It didn’t work. This godforsaken room was short-circuiting my ability to concentrate. Clyde used some kind of judo on me and before you can say, “Take your medicine,” I was face to the floor with my arms still behind my back. I felt the pinch of a syringe in my neck, but the needle snapped off before it penetrated deeply. Panic set in and I pulled at those cuffs with all of my newfound strength—what was left of it, anyway. The pain in my wrists was agonizing , and I cried out right before one of the links snapped, freeing me.

Before I knew what was happening, more of these security goons showed up and tackled me, trying to hold me down. I pushed and pulled, bit arms and pulled hair until I was free enough to plant my right foot on the ground, then thrust myself upward to a standing position, sending several of them flying. That was awesome. I felt unstoppable. Heidi had stepped back from the fray, and when the men went airborne, she nimbly evaded them, stepped right up to me and pointed a gun to my forehead.

Everyone froze, and all of my confidence evaporated.

“Okay,” I sighed, “You wi…”

Boom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Talon, the Prophesier, levitated invisibly in the hallway of the strange underground complex, looking down upon a group of human beings. They were standing around a third, bigger human, who was bleeding from his head and unconscious. The males were shouting at a female with blond hair and took a weapon from her hands. There was some kind of crude mental suppressor broadcast over the area, which, while annoying, did nothing to diminish his powers as he secretly penetrated the minds of all living things in the area. He hovered and observed.

“You idiot!” Clyde shouted, “This guy was a class A, and you just executed him. What in hell are we going to tell Harrison when he gets back? What do we tell Dr. Grauer?“

“Who cares,” snarled Heidi, “Have you forgotten that this piece of garbage here broke my sister’s legs, then killed Ray in the bridge-tunnel?”

Clyde shot back, “I hate him as much as you do, but he didn’t shoot Ray, his girlfriend did. And we all are pulling for Ericka to recover, but she will be all right in time. However, this poor schmuck will be dead forever, along with our careers.”

At that point one of the soldiers moved and the bloody face of the large man became more visible. Interesting, Talon noted. He knew the injured man very well. His name was Adam.

Several doctors ran up and kneeled next to Adam’s body. The older one checked a few things and turned. “You only grazed him. We need to run a few tests, make sure his brain isn’t bleeding or swelling, but he’s very much alive.”

“Impossible!” Heidi exclaimed, “The barrel of my Glock was aimed dead center on his forehead from less than two feet away. No way was that only a graze.”

Chuckles from the men only served to enrage her more, but she clamped her mouth shut before destroying what little was left of her reputation.

Clyde ordered the doctors to do their tests quickly, and they worked together to hoist Adam back onto the gurney and wheel him away to the radiology lab. Talon drifted down the now empty corridor, contemplating the significance of the injured man. When he was younger, he had often dreamed of Adam and his life. He knew about Gus and St. Jude’s. He spent many evenings in the casinos of Detroit. The significance of these dreams was never clear, but now this…this was no dream. He may be in a spiritual form, but this was reality. Somehow this human named Adam had summoned him here at the moment of his injury. To help, perhaps? There could be no other explanation. Should he help? Certainly nothing on this primitive world could pose much of a threat. Yet, a faint echo of fear warned him about the folly of such arrogance. Even so, he thought, the human needs my help, and bothered to summon me all the way here, so I will provide whatever assistance I can.

At the other end of the hall there was a large room with a heavy steel door, guarded by two men. Being invisible and intangible, Talon floated past them and through the wall without notice. One wall of the room was lined with bunk beds aligned barracks-style perpendicular to the wall. Between each bed was a rudimentary wardrobe. On the other side of the room there were round tables and folding chairs and a small basic workout area. A door led to a single bathroom. On the ceiling hung a half dozen domes concealing surveillance cameras.

Captive in this space were a group who formerly thought of themselves as the collective owners of Fortress Investments. Lately, they rarely thought about the business. Survival and escape were the only items on the agenda, and in that order.

A tall slender woman in her early forties with short red hair was immediately recognizable to Talon from a recent dream, although he recalled her hair as being longer. Without the long hair and makeup she looked older than he remembered her. Across from her, focused on the game of chess between them, was another man Talon recognized. The silky white hair was shorn, but shill shone radiantly. Stuart looked up from the board after making his move.

“We have been locked up here for weeks. Do you really believe that Sharpe is in any shape to try to rescue us? You saw the injuries he suffered at my house. In the unlikely event that he even survived, he must have broken every bone in his body, and probably damaged his internal organs as well. At best, he would have ended up a shadow of his former self, walking with the assistance of a cane, forever needing medical care. Face it, Kate, if we are ever to escape from here we need to do it ourselves.”

Not looking up, Kate replied, “Stu, what you say makes perfect sense, but right before we were put in this brain scrambling prison I saw it all. I saw Adam down here fighting the guards. It may be the clearest remote viewing I have ever experienced.”

“Katie,” Stuart purred, “have you considered the possibility that any rescue may come six months from now? Or possibly 6 years? I don’t know about you but I have no intention of staying here that long. I know Harrison Kirkwood and his methods. As soon as his people are ready they are going to try to destroy our psionic talents and most likely set us free as drooling idiots. Why they haven’t done so already is a mystery, but it could happen at any time.”

“I know, I know, I know!,” Kate tried not to shout, “Fine. Have it your way. What do you propose?”

Stuart leaned in even closer, “The only thing keeping us in here is that anti-psionic field generator, agreed?”

“Mostly,” Kate answered, “But what can be done about that?”

“Tracy and the twins have come up with a plan to take out the generator. It should work.”

“What about the locked doors and the armed guards?”

“Those we could handle easily with our abilities restored.”

“Have you forgotten about those ridiculous helmets they wear?”

Stuart grinned, “Those helmets aren’t powerful enough to stop me unless I was exhausted, like I was when they attacked my house. Besides, I’ve been around them long enough now to get around them. They won’t be a problem.”

That gave Kate something to consider. If Stuart could control the soldiers right through the helmets, he could march us all out of here like the Pied Piper. However…

“Harrison could ruin everything.” Kate added, “He could break your control over the soldiers.”

“True. That’s why we must wait until we know that he’s away. Then the plan will work.” Stuart moved his queen across the board, “Checkmate.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Have you ever awoken during an intense dream, but you were just dreaming that you were awake…that in actuality you were still asleep? That’s how I felt as I slowly regained consciousness. For a few moments I felt like I was both the Prophesier (who apparently goes by the name of Talon these days) and my lovable self. A familiar deep, gravelly voice snapped me back to reality.

BOOK: The Talented
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ads

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